Hero Act
by halfpipez
Summary: What Zane knew and what he didn't were what bothered him the most. Questions bore more questions and answers were never given. This was becoming a problem.
1. Prologue

The doorbell rang, waking Zane up from his sleep. He knew who it was. He wished he could fall back asleep without feeling guilty. He grudgingly got up.

His covers were thrown unceremoniously off of his body, a chill going through him from the colder temperature of the room. He never thought he'd need heating at night during the winter, but if this kept up he just might consider it.

The carpeted stairs muffled his footsteps. He hoped Syrus hadn't woken up, though the kid had always been a deep sleeper.

He opened the door, letting the frosty breeze bite at his toes as his eyes took in the usual sight.

"Hey." A bloody grin was shot his way.

Zane stepped to the side, letting the nightly visitor in. "What happened this time, Aster?" He never got a straight answer, but it was part of their routine so he felt obliged to ask.

"Some guy wanted to take me on. You should see him. Heh..."

Zane wanted circumstances, not vague explanations, but ignored his curiosity and closed the door.

Aster knew where the medical kit was. He knew where the bathroom was. He knew where everything was. He could take care of himself. And yet every night, Zane found himself following Aster's footsteps and keeping him company. The silence between them was only ever broken by a wince of pain and the sound of unraveling and wrapping bandages, an occasional hiss of pain from the anti-septic escaping Aster's bruised lips. His pale skin was marred by cuts and bruises. Zane imagined an unfair fight fought with knives, but he never found out what they were really from. He wondered who he'd saved today with his insufferable hero act.

This night, their silent ritual changed.

"You want to know everything, don't you?" Aster asked, a smirk on his dirt-covered face.

After a moment, Zane replied, "Maybe I do, but it's none of my business."

"Got that right," Aster said, dabbing some alcohol on a gash that ran down the length of his arm. His face scrunched up in obvious pain as the familiar stinging sensation went through the cut. "But if you ask nicely, maybe I'll tell you."

"No thanks. I'd rather not hear about your games." Or, at least, Zane thought, that's how Aster treated it all. Like a game. A dangerous game someone like him shouldn't be playing. A dangerous game that dyed his white skin red and blue and black, colours that looked twice as painful on him than on anyone else. And yet – _and yet_ – he was smiling.

"Games?" he asked lightly. "They're more than just games for the victims, Zane."

The words sounded sinister and Zane couldn't help the hairs that were now standing at attention on the back of his neck. He was used to the usual trouble. The trouble that involved card games that he knew for a fact he could win at. Those were games. Those were dangerous games with their lives on the line and yet Zane knew – goddammit he knew – that they could both survive round after round after round of them with barely a scratch on their life points.

In real life, when card games weren't the deciding factor, Zane wasn't so sure.

"So where are you going to go this time?"

"Anywhere," Aster replied.

Zane only wished their meetings gave him more answers than questions.


	2. Chapter One

Aster always disappeared by morning, with no trace of his visit. It made Zane wonder if they were figments of his imagination, but he knew better than that. Each visit became more real. Each visit became more tangible.

But that may have been because of the blood that trickled down his forehead, the cheekbone that had been bruised, and the limp in his normally brisk step, not to mention the unseen wounds on the rest of his body that made him groan in pain with each step, only a week later.

"You're going to end up dead if you keep going like this," Zane said thickly as Aster stumbled into the kitchen.

The cupboard creaked open, revealing a medical kit that Zane knew he'd soon have to replace. Cracking fingers pried it from its position on the second shelf. The sound of laboured breathing filled the room. Zane could barely take it as he saw wisps of Aster's silvery hair, the tips flecked with fresh blood that shined in the moonlight that dared make its way through the open blinds.

Zane opened his mouth to ask, to demand answers to his questions, but Aster's suddenly small yet determined voice beat him to it.

"Justice needs to be served, and that girl needed help."

That offering hardly quenched Zane's morbid curiosity. "What girl? What people need justice? And why the hell can't you save yourself first?" Zane felt his voice rising, his hand coming down to slam on the counter. He was lucky that Syrus was away at a tournament, otherwise he would've already woken up. Zane didn't need questions from him right now. He had too many of his own.

"Some girl. I dunno. Why does it matter?" Aster said. Zane wasn't sure whether he was answering his questions in sequence or just addressing the first. "She's safe now anyway, so my job is done."

"Job? Do you get paid to do this, Aster?" Zane asked skeptically.

"You know, if you don't want me here, I can always go somewhere else," Aster said, a bitter smile on his battered face.

"Tch. You don't have anywhere. No one would keep quiet."

"Then shut up and help me." A bandage was between his teeth as he tried to wrap his shoulder in gauze.

Zane frowned, ripping the bandages from Aster's clumsy fingers only because he – a kid who normally looked so composed – looked so damn pathetic. "Give it here," he said roughly. He turned the tap on and soaked a washcloth in water, pressing it to Aster's forehead. "Hold it there, or you'll look paler than you normally do."

Aster did just that, and when Zane was satisfied that he'd keep it there, he picked up his arm and began to wrap it. The task was tedious and bloody and soon the kitchen smelled of a combination of anti-septic, blood, and sweat. Aster had slowly taken off his dirtied clothes piece by piece as they needed to reach more and more broken and bruised skin. They all lay dumped in a pile beside their two chairs, which they had pushed closer together. The island counter was littered with spent rolls, empty boxes, and an almost drained bottle of anti-septic.

They did it all in relative silence. Nothing about that ever changed. It was always silent. Zane was almost thankful for it; it was the only thing about their nightly meetings that stayed the same. Other than the occasional wheezing or hissing coming from Aster because of the stinging alcohol on his wounds, there was nothing else to be heard. His heavy breathing skimmed Zane's collarbone, reminding him of their proximity with every breath. It made him anxious and he didn't know why.

Every so often, Zane would look up to see Aster studying him, his bright blue eyes scrutinizing him as he went on fixing the kid up. It was unnerving, but there was no harm in staring. Zane let him, relatively unfazed by it. He wondered what the kid could see in him. What he couldn't see. What he wanted to see. More questions, no answers. Zane ignored them, focusing on his task.

"You can take that off now," Zane said, gesturing to the washcloth as he stood up to get a different pack of bandages from the medicine cabinet.

Aster lowered his arm, glancing at the now red cloth in his hand. Zane slowly opened the new box, the sound of shifting cardboard whispering through the room. Aster held back his hair as Zane peeled the bandage from its paper and plastic casing, waiting patiently as he bent down to apply it to his forehead.

"We're all done," he said. A glance at the clock told Zane it was nearly four in the morning. "So, what's your plan now?"

"Home, I think."

"No you're not. Not at this time of night."

"Then where do you suggest I go?" Aster asked tightly. "There's no where else other than a media outlet that'll happily take me in this time of night and -"

"Here."

"What?"

Zane grimaced. "Do I really need to say it again?" A moment passed in which the two stared each other down. "It's decided, you can stay in Syrus' room while he's gone.

Aster didn't argue. Zane helped him up, if only because he hated the pained look Aster got when he tried to lift himself up. He helped him out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into Syrus' sheets covered with rocketships and stars. He heard Aster mumble to himself, "So this is what I've been degraded to." Zane silently thought that it was all his fault he was degraded at all. No one told him to go out and play vigilante with street thugs.

:-:

Zane couldn't get to sleep. Knowing that in the room next to his there was an injured kid who was wheezing his way to sleep made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He didn't ask for that responsibility. He hardly asked for anything. So he lay awake, staring at his ceiling, only calmed by the fact that at least Aster wasn't dead. He could still hear his laboured breathing, and that was sign enough to relax at least a little. Soon, he found that the sound was soothing, if anything. Painful though it may have been for Aster to breath properly, Zane couldn't help it.

The kid was alive, and if his last few remarks had said anything, they told him that the kid was far from having any less self-righteous attitude than he ever had.

Despite all of this, Zane found his feet dragging himself out of bed, the sheets left in an unceremonious pile on his bed as he shuffled his way to Syrus' room. Aster was in a restless sleep, curled up on his side, the quilt covering up to his chin. Rolling the chair at the desk over the plush carpet, Zane sat himself down. His elbows on his knees, hands clasped below his chin, he watched as Aster's chest rose and fell with his erratic breathing. Something was wrong with him. Something he might need a doctor for.

Zane studied him as Aster had studied him before. His silver hair was splayed across the pillow, the blood in it now gone thanks to Zane's careful treatment. The stark contrast of the bruises marring his white skin were all the more prominent thanks to the dull moonlight filtering in through the thin curtains. He had to wonder how he covered all of these injuries up while competing in the Pro Leagues. Then again, he probably took a vacation from the streets a month before any tournaments he attended. That was the only explanation for how he managed to scrape by the health inspection his sponsors gave him before any major duels. If he was injured, his sponsors would no doubt withdraw their money from his funds and he wouldn't be able to compete. Who would sponsor someone who couldn't hold their own?

"You don't have to stare at me like that," Aster said, his voice raspy and light-humoured. "I know I'm attractive when I'm all beat up like this, but really Zaney... to take advantage of the injured? I'm shocked..."

Zane let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "You're awake then?"

"Light sleeper."

"I didn't notice," Zane replied dryly. "You're staying for a couple of days. Thought you should know."

Aster smirked. "You want to keep me in your clutches?"

"Better mine than a hospital's."

"Touché." A wry smile twisted its way onto his face.

Again, they found themselves surveying each other, trying to weigh where the other was. Zane was once again acutely aware of just how bright Aster's eyes were. Even though bruises and cuts covered his face, Aster still managed to convey the innocent curiosity of a child through the deep blue stare.

"Promise you won't sneak out?"

"Sure thing, Zaney."

Aster still hadn't moved from the position Zane had found him in, save for the slight turn of his head to face him. He was still quite messed up even though they had gone through the task of cleaning everything, even the most minor of scrapes.

"You're having a shower first thing in the morning, and then you're going to clean up the kitchen," Zane told him.

"What about breakfast? Doesn't my oh-so-feeble body deserve some scrambled eggs or pancakes?"

Zane inwardly groaned. Aster was planning to milk this. "Cereal is in the cupboard, you can serve yourself."

"And you'll set up a nice hot bath for me?"

"This isn't a retreat where I'll cater to you, Aster," Zane said tersely. "You want that, then go to a hospital."

:-:

Night passed, and though they had gone to bed quite late into the morning, it felt like an eternity just to lay there. Maybe it was the prospect of seeing Aster in his house during the day. Maybe it was because he dreaded what he had just proposed. Either way, Zane wasn't happy about it.

He rolled out of bed and decided that since he still couldn't sleep, he'd pretend he had just woken up and start fresh.

The kitchen was just as they'd left it only hours earlier, with the exception of the sun slipping through the blinds and not the moon. The counter was covered with things that needed to be thrown in the trash. Zane had even re-wrapped Aster's old bandages so they wouldn't get infected, so they lay in a coiled heap on the counter as well. Zane knew he had told the kid to clean it up, but he found himself doing it instead just so he had something to occupy himself with.

A long two hours later, he heard the shower turn on upstairs. Aster was awake. Zane had already set out some of his old clothes, Syrus' too-big hand-me-downs, and a towel for him in the bathroom. He wondered if they'd fit. It didn't matter though, as long as he wasn't strolling through the house nude. He hoped the kid wouldn't waste all his hot water. He found himself retracting that statement and thinking that he'd need it to soothe all the tense muscles. He mentally hit himself. His thoughts were going crazy and all Aster had to do was be in the house for it to happen.

This was Aster he was talking about. He was loud and arrogant and self-centered. Zane loathed him and worked with him many times. But... there was something about him this time around that was different. Maybe it was because they weren't dueling each other in the Pro Leagues or tag-teaming to get out of some other dimension. He was a different person under all that media hype. He was a kid. A kid who looked for trouble and played hero. A kid that was young enough for Zane to want to protect him and old enough for Zane not to care.

"You're up early."

Zane turned to see Aster smiling a him from the archway into the kitchen. It was his insufferable smile and normally Zane would want to wipe it off his face, but today all he could see were how swollen his lips were.

"Yeah, well so are you. Thought you would rest up," Zane replied.

"Nah, that's boring. Although the glow-in-the-dark stars on Sy's ceiling were entertaining."

Zane decided that no matter how attached to the space-theme Syrus was, they were redecorating.

Aster sat at the island, the stool screeching against the ceramic tiles as he pulled it out. His elbow rested on the table, hand holding his face, he smiled again, damp locks of silver hair falling into his face. "So, what's for breakfast?"

"Like I said, cereal. It's in the pantry over there," Zane said, calm as always as he gestured toward it. "Unless you want me to drive all the way across town to buy you pancakes, you're not getting anything special."

"Can we?" A hopeful gleam appeared in his blue eyes.

"No."

"Aw, that's no fun," Aster said, sounding every bit like the child he was.

Zane shrugged. "Too bad."

Aster kept staring at him. Zane kept cleaning. Soon the counter was empty.

Finally, Aster spoke up. "I thought I was supposed to do that."

"I took pity on you." Zane said simply. "Don't think I'll do it again."

"Do I have to stay over another night?"

"If you can walk straight, I'll let you go."

"Right then, I'll prove it!" Aster said, a grin on his face. Zane shook his head as he watched him stand up, wincing as his leg brushed against the metal frame of the stool. "I can walk straight and it doesn't even hurt."

Great. Aster was turning this into another one of his games. "That wasn't a challenge, Phoenix."

"Well, I'm taking it as one, Truesdale."

The determination was already blatantly shining in his eyes. Zane frowned. "Hate my company that much that you don't want to pay attention to your well-being?'

"You say it like you want me here," Aster commented offhandedly, smirking. He leaned over the island, invading the older duelist's personal space. "Do you want me here, Zaney?"

Zane didn't look fazed. Inside, he wondered what the hell Aster was up to and why he was even putting up with this game. He wondered why he was so adamant on getting Aster back on two steady legs instead of letting him leave with a limp. He wondered why Aster mattered so much.

_Because out of all the places he chose to run to, it was mine._

"If it were my choice," Zane said slowly, "you wouldn't be here. But since you come to me whenever you hurt yourself over your ridiculous and unrealistic justice ideals, it's my responsibility to make sure you don't bleed all over my carpet and get back on your feet."

Aster drew back and went to speak, but Zane held a hand up.

"Shut up, Aster," he growled. "I'm here as your crutch, that's what I am. That's what you've made me by coming here whenever you've been beat down doing a policeman's job. This shouldn't be my responsibility. This should be a matter of common sense, but you don't seem to have any so I'm forcing mine on you. So you're staying because you have put it on my shoulders to patch you up every night, and I'm taking it more seriously than you are."

Aster stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands on the counter. "You know, despite our past together... I think I trust you the most," he admitted quietly, his hands clenching into tight fists.

"Odd... over these past few weeks, I've come to accept the same of you," Zane replied.


	3. Chapter Two

Tension. That's what it boiled down to. At least, that was what Zane finally concluded as he half-listened to the TV while flipping through the pages of a duel magazine. Syrus would be in there, and his next match was in less than an hour via satellite. It was his first Pro League tournament, and Zane was proud of his little brother getting there on his own. But this wasn't about Syrus.

Anything involving Aster in the past couple of days had been filled with some sort of tension. It was uncomfortable enough for Zane to take notice and start over-thinking it.

Whenever he started acting like the parental figure he thought he could never be, Aster grew guilty. Zane could see it a mile away from the way his features scrunched up and the way he'd suddenly find his hands absolutely fascinating.

It made Zane feel like he had authority. Like he had some sort of say when it came to Aster's life. He wasn't sure how to deal with that. He was so used to Aster just barging through any warnings or instructions he gave him. But Aster kept surprising him. After that first morning, the playful mind games had stopped. Sure he still joked around and pretended nothing was serious enough to warrant any real attention from him, but Aster was...

What the hell was he?

That was the question Zane kept repeating to himself that afternoon while waiting for Syrus' duel to start.

A plate of cheese and crackers lay on the coffee table nearby, half-eaten and ignored. It was the only thing that was really left in the house. Zane reminded himself to do groceries later, something he'd been neglecting to do since Syrus left. After all, food for one was no problem, but he hadn't expected to entertain company, and Aster was plowing through the food fast. Maybe he'd let the kid tag along?

He frowned and, realizing he'd been doing a lot of frowning lately, turned down the volume on the television. The commercials were loud and annoying and he didn't want any of the stupid jingles stuck in his head.

Aster walked in and crashed on the couch next to him, a candy bar he'd managed to find in the depths of the pantry in his hand. Today, Zane had found a t-shirt and shorts that he could wear. After quickly realizing that he'd never button up any shirt he gave him, Zane had quickly changed gears. What had made him think that just because the kid wore suits all the time, he'd want to wear them while healing, or wear them at all?

"They fit?" he asked.

Aster nodded. "I needed to borrow a belt, but yeah. Hope you don't mind."

Zane wondered vaguely why they hadn't just picked up clothes from Aster's place. For some reason, Aster had been against most any outing involving his house or his sponsors. Zane wasn't sure whether he should ask about it or not, but assumed it was probably because of the sorry state he was in. It had been three days and he looks marginally better. Even when Zane had suggested seeing a doctor, an adamant "no" was sent his way.

... Well, he could always do the checkup himself.

"Take your shirt off."

"What?" Aster asked, almost choking on the last bit of his candy bar.

Zane looked back up from the magazine, leveling a cool gaze at the shocked kid. "I said take your shirt off. I'm going to redo your bandages," he explained. "They say that a wound needs to breath and dirty bandages can lead to infection, so we're going to take them off."

"Oh..." A look of relief crossed Aster's face for a moment before he complied with Zane's instructions. "For a sec there I totally thought you were gonna do something else!"

"What, like come on to you? You should stop thinking so highly of yourself," Zane said, seeming to be as calm as ever.

Aster gave him a look of disbelief and shook his head, throwing the oversized t-shirt over his shoulder, turning to face Zane. If it hadn't been hard not to stare at him while initially wrapping the soon-to-be scars, then it was definitely hard now. Without the hindrance of the night to hide the view, Zane could see all of the scrapes and cuts and bruises over his chest and abdomen. He had to look back down at the magazine to keep his thoughts straight.

"Good, now if it doesn't hurt, start taking that one off," Zane instructed, pointing to to one on his abdomen. "I'm going to get a roll of gauze."

"Sure thing, Zaney!"

Zane quickly stepped out of the room, questioning for the thousandth time why he was doing all of this. Why was he putting up with Aster? No, correction, _how_ was he putting up with Aster? The only major argument they had gotten into the entire time was the one on the very first day. After that, there was an awkward tension around them that couldn't be explained by anything. It was seriously starting to grate on his nerves. Arguing was so much easier than whatever the hell they were doing now. Zane growled, pulling out the roll from the cupboard before stalking back to the living room.

All of this was a little too much for him to be dealing with right now.

"Hey, can you help me with this?" Aster asked, wincing as he tried to maneuver his arm.

"That's what you get for playing vigilante with knives."

"Who told you there were knives?"

"There are cut marks all over you," Zane said pointedly. "What else can do that other than a nasty encounter with a cat?"

"I dunno. They had brass knuckles, though. Not knives."

That explained nothing except the bruises. Zane grimaced as he slowly unraveled the bandage. "Is there anything else you wanna tell me before me move on?" he asked, his voice low. "Because you've been withholding a lot of information that doctors would deem to be on a need-to-know basis, and I think I need to know."

"They had brass knuckles," he said shortly. "One of them had a dagger, but he only got me twice."

"_Only_ twice?" Zane threw the used bandage on to the coffee table. "It looks to me like he did the most damage."

Aster glowered. "Well, I saved the day so it doesn't matter what kind of injuries I sustained from who, just that I'm still alive."

"Reckless idiot..." Zane muttered, pulling out some cotton pads and a new bottle of anti-septic from the shopping bag he had at the foot of the couch. An hour earlier he figured he'd restock the medical kit, and while at the drugstore he'd also picked up the dueling magazine.

Aster didn't respond, instead fixating an irritated look at his blue-haired caretaker.

The rewrapping went fairly quickly and quietly. Cheers sounded from the television, and a man announced the next match. Syrus was on in ten more minutes. Zane smiled fondly as he heard his little brother's name, looking up momentarily to see his graphic on-screen.

"You're proud of him, aren't you?" Aster commented, breaking the silence.

"He's worked hard, rising through the ranks at Duel Academy and then mastering the Cyber-Style deck, and now he's up there. Saying I'm proud is a bit of an understatement."

"Cyber-Style? I thought that was yours?"

Zane shook his head. "Not anymore. They were the cause of my heart problems. I didn't listen to what they wanted, so they lashed out. But Syrus listened. The cards respond to him now, so I passed it on."

Aster nodded in understanding. "Cool... but, doesn't that mean you're left without a deck?"

"That's why they announced I was on a break," Zane explained. "I have yet to build a new deck."

"Oh, so I guess a game of Duel Monsters is out of the question?"

"Yeah."

Aster sighed. "This sucks, I'm so bored."

"Too bad. If you weren't out trying to deliver justice, you wouldn't be here right now," Zane said unapologetically. "Now go drink some water. You haven't been hydrating yourself properly and that'll make your pain worse."

Aster rolled his eyes and carefully pushed himself up off the couch, avoiding using his bad arm. "Okay, mother."

When Aster hobbled back into the room, Syrus' duel had already begun and Zane's attention was fully diverted to the HDTV. He didn't blame him. His brother was probably far higher on his priority list than he was, and Aster knew it.

"I'm going upstairs," he said, and when Zane didn't respond, he hadn't been surprised in the least.

:-:

The glow-in-the-dark stars kept him company. Aster had drawn the blinds shut and closed the curtains, and as he lay on the bed staring desolately at the ceiling, he decided that maybe, just maybe, he was an idiot.

Well, no. Zane made him feel like an idiot: he was trapped and caged and stupid, just like an idiot.

"Fuck you, Zane," he bit out at the stars, some of which mimicked constellation patterns.

His hands clenched into the rocketship-studded quilt that he had tucked himself under and he rolled over, determinedly ignoring the pain that shot through him as he did so. Maybe he'd just take a nap. A long one. One that would make him forget about how much Zane's opinion of him seemed to diminish with each lousy encounter.

He wasn't a hero to Zane. He was just a stupid, delusional child.

* * *

_Hey guys! Updates from here on out will be a little slower, but don't worry too much! I'm planning on actually finishing a multi-chapter fic for once, especially because I love this idea._

_Reviews are much appreciated! Thanks for reading, hope you've enjoyed what's up here so far!_


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